


"You Spiked My Energon!"

by SineadRivka



Series: Nested Sparks [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bonding, Character Development, Multi, Political Bonding, Political Marriage, character flaw discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4506870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first day of negotiations aren't going so well. (Age of Ascension: Cycle 2)</p>
<p>Series Note: The Great War was over in most ways, leaving Cybertron to figure out how to rebuild their society. The public demanded to see proof that the three leaders and their leadership teams were willing to make peace happen - or die trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You Spiked My Energon!"

"You spiked my energon!"

"And you recharged like a Sparking through the Dark." Firestar eyed her General without half a slag given about the ire she was bringing down upon herself. "I checked your recharge logs, too."

"How dare you!" Elita stormed up to the mech, her coral and pink coloration clashing against the orange-and-red hues of her medic.

"I dare because I want to see you rested for tonight's meeting with the Prime and Warlord. The less defragging and offline processing time that you have each day, the less patience you have for others."

"I will send you back to Polihex for your disobedience!"

"Leave the medic alone, Elita," Jazz drawled from where he sprawled over one of the receiving room's couches. He grinned impudently at the lavender glare aimed his way. "It was my idea. And ya're stressed about meeting the two mechs that'll share space in ya Spark. Their attendant counselors are good mechs, exactly who we predicted would go with 'em. They're dedicated ta the peace process." The grin faded, showing the serious intent behind his joking mannerisms. "Are _you_?"

This stopped the tirade cold.

Elita was an idealistic mech; she was intelligent, willful, high-strung, and fiery in ways that came across as arrogant and haughty. In truth, she simply had very few filters between her processor and her glossa. Her Spark beat mercilessly against the differing cultures imposed upon Velocitronians that entertainers were demanded to choose between. All this while being looked down upon as being fast lovers instead of artisans and dangerous mechs in their own right. Elita-One was first among all of the Velocitrons due to her capability of not just learning art forms, but having the capability to _create_ new pieces, utilizing her raw talent without having to labor intensively. She did have to try hard for certain arts, but her Spark-borne talent made it easier for her to shift from one art form to the next. On the other side of that coin, she was used to quick results, and had very little patience with herself and with others if things did not go as she had planned or anticipated.

"Ya fear what the berth may contain," Jazz cut right to the chase. His own talents were in observing. And music. And dancing. Lots and lots of dancing and music. It made him very good at infiltration. Rolling to a stand, he made his way to peer up into his leader's face. "Ya've never had the chance n'r the inclination t' explore interfacing, to explore Sparkmergin'. Ya fear that this will change ya and change ya goals. Ya fear bein' hurt, rather'n bein' treasured. We all feared this, us growing up and merging with our firsts, but ya're in a much more serious situation than we'd ever been in when we," and he indicated the other two mechs in the room, "were first learning about intimacy. Stop taking ya fear out on us, Elita."

Optics broke contact and stared at the mechanics within articulate hands. Jazz was right. Jazz was absolutely right. White, scuffed fingers wrapped around her dark red ones, and his voice deepened. "Ya trust us."

"We met with the mechs that _they_ trust, " Firestar said, stepping up to affectionately shoulder at Elita. "That tells us a lot about what they're like, despite that the choices are also designed to show off what they're trying to project. Just like you with your choice in us."

"Interesting, though, that all three of you brought your CMO," Chromia commented through a yawn. She leaned against the door again. "Megs didn't bring any bodyguards--"

"Like Ironhide isn't enough to exhaust you," Firestar interrupted with a barked laugh. "Ratchet informed me when I was getting our morning energon that the two of you were still clanging when he finally shooed Knockout away."

"Oh? And is Knockout getting anywhere with Ratch?" Chromia asked, optics brightening with the potential for good gossip.

"Not yet!" Giggling, the Velocitrons' CMO smiled at Elita and murmured, "You realize that we all came with the potential of meeting political mates among the other factions as well, do you not? We take our duties seriously . . . but that doesn't mean that we can't find another's Spark to our liking. I have it on good authority that a certain Autobot tactician couldn't take his pretty blue optics off of our Jazz."

The comment sent the little mech into a full blush before he huffed and started toward the door. "Not like I could find it in myself to look away from either him or Soundwave. Both mechs draw me in. I'm going to explore." He quickly shut the door behind him, but wasn't fast enough to block out the chuckles at his quick retreat. Sighing, he rubbed at his face and let himself sag.

A scuff of a pede against the floor made him realize that he wasn't alone, and he dreaded looking up.

Red optics in a gunmetal grey face were watching him steadily, warily.

The timer he had set to remind him to remind Elita that the first meeting was starting went off.

"The meeting began a few breems ago," the warlord murmured, voice careful not to carry over the sound of three mechs starting a heated discussion in the room that Jazz had vacated. "Did Knockout not speak to any of your faction of the change in time?"

_:Elita, Firestar, Chromia, did Knockout talk to any of you?:_

_:Oh, slag.:_

_:I'll take that as a yes, Firestar. Get Elita presentable. I'll go make apologies.:_

"Well, frag me with a morningstar," Jazz sagged again before turning it into a formal bow, indicating that they were to return to the private meeting rooms. He had the pleasure of seeing the great Decepticon's face pale with the mental image, then barely hold laughter in until they were far enough away that he wouldn't be heard.

"I can see why Soundwave has taken to you so quickly," Megatron finally said. They were crossing the inner courtyard and crystal garden. Both looked up, scanning the skies in an immediate reaction to stepping outside in unfamiliar, unsecured territory. A rueful smile passed between them. "His support and intelligence would have been greatly missed if I could not have brought him. I thank you for your support, Lieutenant Jazz."

The littler mech shook his helm at the mention of rank. "Jus' Jazz'll do. Soundwave's a good mech, an' was a worthy opponent." Smiling at the sight of Prowl waiting with a large, primary-colored mech at his right, Jazz continued. "An' it will help to show the rest of our factions that we're _all_ very much invested in creatin' and maintainin' peace. Ain't just the Big Three that gotta drop weapons an' think about makin' nice. We had ta be agreeable ta the concept of political Bonds."

By this point, Elita was walking sedately through another doorway into the courtyard, fully composed and looking rested, peaceful, and ready to face her Bondmates-to-be. Megatron stifled a vaguely off-color comment in favor of muttering, "You took the long way around to get here, spy."

"Of course. Do you expect me to make my General run through the halls like a Youngling late to class?"

"Not to class, no. Nevertheless, it is good to meet you outside of the field of battle." The Warlord left Jazz's side to approach the Prime and the General, clawed gauntlets held behind his back and helm bowed in a neutral manner. With no further public words, the trio walked down the hallway to their private conference room.

Optics tracing the outline of the door for a moment, Jazz smiled and turned his optics towards the handsome doorwinged mech. "So. How long we gonna hafta wait for one of 'em to start killing someone?"

A loud bang turned both mechs around in time to see the door bounce off of the wall, the remnants of a chair in its wake.

"Oh goody. They've already started negotiations?" Starscream touched down beside the mechs with a deep sigh.

"Yeap."

"Affirmative."

"And another thing!" Elita's voice cut through the air, passing the now-clear doorway while the young Prime followed with hands up and his clear baritone asking her to calm herself.

Megatron eased through the doorway with just enough time to spare as Elita launched after him, Optimus still in her wake. They all slid to a halt at seeing their second in commands blocking them from what could have easily been a merry chase through the halls.

Jazz flipped his visor out of the way to glare at his General. He didn't even need to say anything. All he had to do was judge her behaviors. Look at how childish she is, look at how she has allowed her anger to get the better of her. Look at her.

She drew herself up and would have looked away had Jazz not quietly growled, "Spare chairs are found three hallways over, in the dining storage rooms. I would suggest that you find one to replace the scrap that is littering the hallway, General."

"You--"

"Insubordinate slagger? Yes. Yes I am. But I am dedicated to the peace accords."

The still-silent question hung between the six mechs before Elita's armor clamped against her frame. She stormed off to find that chair. Jazz bowed formally to the Warlord and the Prime, once each, equally honored. "Please forgive the delayed start to our peace summit. Can I find you some energon while we wait?"

Optimus shook his head. "Will she be all right?"

Chromia appeared from a doorway, accompanied by Ironhide and Knockout. "Once she cools off, yes. I believe that she was mostly displeased with the fact that one of our cohort did not promptly inform us that the starting time of today's meeting had been moved up. But she is young, and often allows herself to not direct her anger appropriately. I warn you both; this is a flaw that has had centuries to build habit. It will take her time to unlearn this."

Megatron shook his head, silently denouncing that he would back away from this process, but it was Optimus who spoke. "We each have some substantial flaws in our personalities; it would be unfair to alienate another due to their own."

When Elita returned, the two larger mechs helped her put the door back together. It would squeak and stick, but it was the first group effort to work together as individuals. During the process, Knockout had posed himself in a patch of sunlight and promptly fell into a light recharge.

Before long, nine mechs could be found lounging in the courtyard, basking in the sunlight and resting weary limbs. It took some time, and the shadows hadn't grown long, but three more mechs joined the quiet peace, some touching, some reading, some playing games, but all just adjusting.

Peace was not an easy road.

But it was a necessary one.

They would learn, and they would make Cybertron whole again.


End file.
